Operation Hero's Watch. Justine Davis
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your message.”
His mom? Cassidy remembered the tiny, sweet woman from when they had lived down the street. Before they’d broken her foolish heart by moving away.
“How is your mom?” she asked, feeling suddenly derailed by the niceties of civility.
“Fine, now,” he said, and there was satisfaction in his tone.
Now? She hadn’t been? She was about to ask when the dog nudged her. “You brought your dog? He’s beautiful.”
“He’s not mine. He just... I’ll explain that later.” Then, like the Jace she remembered, he cut to the heart of it. “What’s wrong? You...weren’t real clear on the voice mail. And when I tried to call back—”
“I... My phone died.” Which was true. What she didn’t say—yet—was that she’d let it die, after turning off any locating function she could think of, because her mind was full of ideas about how the GPS and other things she didn’t even know about would lead right to her. Silly, but...
“What is it? Your message... You sounded scared.”
“I was.”
She saw him take in a deep breath before he asked for a third time, although softly now, “What’s wrong, Cassie?”
That did it. He was the only one she’d ever allowed the nickname. She’d liked when he’d used it, because it was something only between the two of them. Even her family didn’t use it. It was Jace’s alone, and that had made it, in her teenage brain, something...intimate. But now it smashed through her walls, and for a moment the fear surfaced.
Jace reacted instantly. He reached out to steady her. As he always had. Even the dog noticed; she heard the soft whine. And the animal was pressing against her knees. Between them she felt oddly steadied, as if an earthquake had stopped.
“I brought help,” Jace said.
“Is he a guard dog?”
“Do you need one?” His voice was suddenly sharper.
“I...feel like it.”
“Then you’ve got one. Three, actually.”
“Three?”
He looked behind him. And for the first time she realized the dog wasn’t his only company. A man came out of the trees on the north side of the house. A stranger. Tall, lean, dark haired and intimidating in a way she couldn’t quite put words to. He was walking past the older silver coupe parked in the driveway behind her own SUV. Walking with a very slight limp Cassidy didn’t think she’d even have noticed had she not been at the perfect angle.
“Jace, I don’t—”
“He works for a place that specializes in helping people with trouble. At least let’s talk, all right?”
It was ridiculous. True, she’d called on an impulse she’d regretted, but she had called him. And to her amazement, here he was. So now she was resisting even letting him in the door?
The dog whined again, and she looked down at him. Those dark, gold-flecked eyes were fastened on her. He nudged her, as if asking for attention. Automatically she reached down to pet him. The feel of the silky dark fur on his head was oddly soothing. He kept looking at her, as if trying to tell her it would be all right.
She nearly laughed at herself, putting human thoughts in a dog’s head. She’d known some clever dogs who had a knack for reading human emotion, but that was a bit much. Still, it steadied her to the point where she realized that she was leaving the person she’d called for help literally standing out in the cold.
“I’m sorry,” she said as the other man reached the porch, “come in. I’ll put coffee on—it’s cold out there.”
The moment they stepped inside and she got a closer look at the man who had been driving the car, she almost wished she hadn’t. Those eyes weren’t just intimidating, she guessed they could be terrifying.
“No one around,” the man said, “except a guy next house over, chasing a cat.”
“Mr. Snider,” Cassidy said, then processed the rest of what he’d said. That while she and Jace were talking, he’d been...what? Checking out the neighbors?
He works for a place that specializes in helping people with trouble.
She would not, she decided immediately, want to go up against this man. And the idea of having him on her side was admittedly heartening. But it was silly to think, for if he was a pro, then he was going to think just like the police—that either she was imagining things or the threat wasn’t real. Not that they’d said that, they’d been very polite, even gentle, but in truth she had nothing to give them in the way of proof.
She gestured them, including the dog, who seemed to understand, into the living room, then walked toward the kitchen. She wanted to run, but they could still see her and she didn’t want it to be quite that obvious that she was nervous, still wishing she’d never made that call. It was only that she’d decided Jace wouldn’t show up and then he had, she told herself. It was the unexpectedness of it.
When she came back with coffee, she was still edgy, but better. She took a seat on the couch, safely at the other end from Jace. The man Jace had introduced as Rafe sat in one of the armchairs, the dog sitting politely but alertly at his feet.
“He’s very well behaved,” she said, aware even as she said it that she was avoiding the reason for them being here.
“He’s got good company manners,” the man said. “You should have seen him at his owner’s—my boss—wedding, in his bow tie.”
She laughed, and suddenly the tension eased. She saw a glint in the man’s eyes that told her that had been the purpose. Perhaps he really did specialize in helping people, for despite his intimidating looks, he’d eased her strain.
“Cassie?” She looked back at Jace when he spoke, again using that name she’d only ever allowed him. “You really are scared. What’s wrong?”
She took a deep breath. If he’d actually come in response to her panicked call, she had to at least explain, didn’t she?
Begin with what she thought they should know first.
“The police don’t think anything’s wrong. Because I have no proof.”
“Proof of...?” Rafe then, prompting when she didn’t go on.
Finally, she said it in a rush. “I have a stalker.”
Once Cassie had started, the words seemed to rush out of her. “I know, who’d stalk me, I’m not the type.”
Jace had had a moment to really look at her now, and he thought she was very wrong about that; his best friend’s younger sister had grown up quite nicely in the years since he’d last seen her. She’d been sixteen to his eighteen then. The eyes that had been a sort of vague color then were an amazing mix of green and gold and darker flecks, a combination that he supposed would be called hazel. Her hair was the same medium brown, but with lighter streaks that spoke of days in the sun even here, where it was usually only a summer visitor. Her nose still had that slight upward tilt, but her mouth was fuller. So were the curves—
Damn.
Cory’s laughing words, spoken more than once, came back to him. She’s the brain of the family—I got the looks.
That might have been true then; quiet little Cassidy Grant had been a bookish girl who likely would have faded completely into the background for him had it not been for one thing; she had ever and always been able to make him laugh. That brain Cory had always joked about was indeed present, and part of it was a knack for retorts to her